Anti-Documentary

Coming in a little late but I love this story:

When I came to California I moved in with a couple friends who lived in a pretty big but very old house. About 70-80 years old, creaky wood, creepy at night. What would be the first floor in any house was the garage, which was huge, and the entrance to the house was up a flight of stairs on the 2nd floor, so there was only one entrance. And yes it was terrible for earthquakes. Even the smallest tremor rocked it. But that's not the creepy part.

Few months after I moved in we have some people over drinking and one of them tells me the house I moved into is haunted. I ask the roommates and they confirmed and said they didn't want to tell me because they were worried I wouldn't move in (they needed someone quick as their old roommate bailed). Luckily for them, I love this kind of shit and immediately start asking everyone that comes over if they've experienced anything. Most frequent visiting friends had, anywhere from seeing moving shadows, unexplained noises, to even seeing people in corners and at the top of the third floor flight of stairs.

After hearing a lot of stories, but never experiencing anything, I decided to make a documentary about trying to prove if our house was haunted or not. My plan was to interview the roommates and our friends, and have local paranormal investigation crews check out the house, and film it. I even got the TAPS guys to respond to a cold email and they hooked me up with their West Coast squad.

Then one night it's me and one of the roommates by ourselves in the house bullshitting. He opens up and says he doesn't want me to do a documentary because he's legitimately worried about what might happen to him, and even went as far as saying he'd move out if I went forward with it. I start convincing him he doesn't have anything to worry about, and the point of the doc isn't to prove if ghosts exist or not, but to just tell a funny story about a weird house and my group of friends. After about ten minutes of me trying to convince him to let me do the doc, we hear a really loud BANG on the floor above our heads.

Now at night, the third floor is creepy as shit, so neither of us want to go up, but after realizing we're two men we go up and don't see anything. We go back downstairs, and step out on the stair case to have a smoke. He's way on edge, so I'm trying to calm him down, and I tell him there's nothing in the house. Quite literally as soon as the last word leaves my mouth, the doorbell rings on its own. And as soon as that happened, my friend ran to the neighbors house and didn't come back for a few hours.

After that I promised not to make the documentary and we kind of stopped talking about the house being haunted. I don't know if it was, or not, I never experienced anything before or after that, but that was the creepiest shit that's ever happened to me.